


A History Lesson

by randomdreamer01



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: (yes I know I'm a mess), Canon Compliant, Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Teen Angst, something silly I wrote while I was at work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 09:13:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11529174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomdreamer01/pseuds/randomdreamer01
Summary: “George Washington was not born in 1733,” Michelle says suddenly. (Well, she didn’t want to say anything at all, but the words have slipped out before she could stop herself.)Silence. Then -"What?"Peter gasps, dumbfounded....Peter and Michelle have a conversation in the library. Sparks don't necessarily fly.





	A History Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this mess when I was supposed to be working, all because I saw the film last week and just couldn't resist its charms. 
> 
> Reviews are (almost) better than chocolates. So please leave one if you can!

 

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Michelle Jones knows many things. 

Here are some of the things Michelle knows: the square root of 23.5, the distance between the earth and the moon, James Baldwin’s date of birth, the entire rap to Nas’ ‘If I Ruled The World’, all the names of the bones in a person’s right hand, the meaning of the latin phrase ‘Vincit qui se vincit’. 

She also knows that George Washington was _not_ born in 1733. 

“George Washington was born in 1733,” says Peter Parker. “Adams in 1735, Jefferson in 1743, Madison in 1751.”

“Is Madison the guy with the wig?” she hears Ned Leeds ask. 

“I think they all wore wigs, dude.” 

“Really? _All_ of them?” 

“Well...maybe not _all_ of them, but definitely Madison.”

“What about...what’s his name...Monroe?” She hears the rustling of papers as Ned flips through his textbook. “Does _that_ guy wear a wig?” 

“Ned, man, I don’t think the quiz is going to be on which presidents wore wigs.”

“You never know, Pete! You just never know! Remember last time? We all thought that - ”

“George Washington was not born in 1733,” she says suddenly. (Well, she _didn’t_ want to say anything at all, but the words have slipped out before she could stop herself.) 

Silence. Then - 

“ _What?_ ” Peter gasps, dumbfounded. 

Sighing, she closes her book, and looks down the length of the table at her two classmates. There is a lot more going on at the boys’ side of the table than hers; piles of books are scattered everywhere, sheets of paper, more pens than is necessary, _three_ cans of soda, and a bag of doritos which she knows is _definitely_ not allowed here in their school library. Peter’s hand is halfway down that bag when he turns to her with the usual dumb, confused expression on his face. 

She rolls her eyes, and carries on in a very bored tone, "You said George Washington was born in 1733. He wasn’t born in 1733. He was born in 1732. Sucker.”

Ned glares at her. Somehow he is always surprised to see her around. “Why were you listening to our conversation?”

“You guys were loud.” She shrugs. “And you guys were wrong.” 

Peter scoffs. “I’m pretty sure Washington was born in 1733.”

“Uh uh, he wasn’t,” she replies. “It’s 1732. In Virginia.”

“Yeah, we all know it’s Virgina, but I’m _pretty_ sure it was in 1733.”

She levels him with her eyes. “I’m _pretty_ sure it’s 1732.”

“Hmm... _pretty_ sure it’s 1733.”

“Um...guys.” Neds lifts up his phone, his eyes darting awkwardly between the two of them. “There’s this thing called google? We can just look up the answer.”

“Go on, then,” says Peter. He even throws her a smug little look. “It’s gonna be 1733.”

She arches an eyebrow in challenge. “Well, I’m betting on that bag of doritos that it’s not.”

“Hey! Not fair! It took us a long time to smuggle that bag of doritos -” 

“Yup, she's right, it’s 1732, not 1733.” Ned groans. He flips his phone around so they can all see the screen. “See? 1732. Says so right here.” 

“No way!” Quick as lightning, Peter reaches over and plucks Ned’s phone from his hand. He scrolls through it furiously. “I thought - I thought….dude, I studied _all_ night!” 

“Bummer,” says Michelle. “‘Cause it’s 1732. You better shape up for the decathlon meeting today, or Flash is gonna whoop your ass.” 

“Flash can go to hell,” Peter says glumly, handing the phone back to Ned. “And here!” He tosses the bag of doritos to her, and she catches it deftly. “Happy now?” 

“Yup. High point of my day.” 

Ned frowns, looking _very_ confused. “That’s...kind of sad, bro.” 

She smirks. “Is it?” She doesn’t wait for a comeback, but fishes into the bag for a dorito and returns to her book. She has said enough for today; if she says anymore, they’ll think she wants to be _friends_ with them or something. _Horrid._

For the next hour, she reads in silence while the two boys study, bicker and do their stupid handshake so loudly that they nearly get kicked out by Mrs. Mumps, the school’s strict librarian. When the bell rings, Ned gathers up only two of their books, and leaves for his next class. Peter, however, continues sitting there, flipping idly through his notes. He keeps tapping his foot in a very, very annoying manner. 

Finally, she blurts out, “Why are you still here?”

“ _What?_ ” That dumb, confused expression again. It makes her roll her eyes. 

“Don’t you have class? Or somewhere to be? Like…your stupid Stark internship?”

“Um...no, not today.” He looks away, fidgets. “I got...um...I’m not taking Psych like Ned, and as for the internship…” He shrugs, meets her eyes very briefly, and looks away again. “Well, I’m not sure it’s gonna work out.” 

_Damn._ “Oh.” She should say something nice here. But all she can manage is: “Well, that sucks.”

“Yeah, well, it does, it really does. Just...shit happens, I guess…” He trails off, letting his pen drop from his hand. 

(He does that a lot, she thinks - talks at a hundred miles per hour and then let the words fall away incoherently when he runs out of steam.)

She struggles for something... _not awful_ to say, and comes up with: “Well, maybe you’ll get another internship. Somewhere better.”

“No, I don’t think so,” he replies quietly. For the first time, he seems genuinely sad. “The thing is - the Stark internship was _the_ best gig I could ever get. And I screwed it up like an idiot.” 

“You’re not an idiot,” she says immediately. 

He stares at her like she had just grown an extra head. “Um.. _you_ call me an idiot on a daily basis, Michelle.” 

She shrugs. Fishes for another dorito. “You’re an idiot for thinking George Washington was born in 1733, but you’re not an idiot in _general_. And -”

“Ooh - ”

“ _No need to say it, Parker!_ ” She nearly snarls, seeing him about to interrupt her. “I heard the pun when I said it the first time. Not an idiot _‘in general’_ , _‘General’_ Washington. Haha. Very funny. You might be just as clever as I am.” 

He smiles cheekily. “Was that a compliment?”

“It’s a kindness,” she says quickly. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, I won’t dream of it,” he says. 

His smile is still there, but it has now become less teasing. It is - what - warmer? Softer? He looks almost awkward as he scratches the back of his head. “You know...Michelle, you’re always hanging around.” 

“Gee. Thanks.”

“Oh, I mean that in a good way,” he corrects himself hurriedly. “You’re always around, and...you know...sometimes...you can come sit with us...if you want.” 

He meets her eyes properly this time, and holds them for a long, still moment. There is the entire length of the table between them, but that hardly matters. (And she thinks _she_ is the stupid one for letting herself return the gaze for so long.)

Eventually, she replies, “No, thanks.”

He frowns, genuinely confused. “Why?”

_Because I am sarcastic and weird and don’t know how to act around people. Because I don’t want to hear how beautiful Liz Allen is every morning. Because you are always running off somewhere, and it must really suck to be the one who keeps getting left behind._

“Because you guys are annoying,” she says.

“Oh.” He doesn’t look offended. A little bit surprised, maybe, but not angry. “Well, at least I asked.” 

“I’ll do you a favour and not tell Ned you did.”

“Thanks. He wouldn’t be thrilled.”

“Figures. And…” - she drops her eyes - “...here.” She slides her book across the table to him before she realises what she is doing. “Another favour.” 

He picks up the book, and stares at the cover with fascination. “The American revolution?”

“Yup. So you can brush up on your history.” She gets up from the table, and slings her backpack over her shoulder. “Remember. It’s 1732, not 1733.”

“For the hundredth time, yes, I know.” He might be rolling his eyes, but the smile he offers her is a friendly one. “Thanks for the lesson, I guess.” 

“Yeah. Whatever.” And then because she still can’t quite resist, she mutters, “Loser.” 

She walks away first so _he_ doesn’t get to. 

 

Michelle Jones knows many things. 

Here are some of the things Michelle knows: Peter Parker is just a boy, Peter Parker thought George Washington was born in 1733, Peter Parker can be wrong, Peter Parker can be kind when he wants to be, Peter Parker has a nice smile. Peter Parker also has a habit of keeping secrets, and she shouldn’t care at all about those secrets if she knows what’s good for her. 

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**Author's Note:**

> Yup. Right. A bit of a mess, but hopefully not too bad? If it is, well...it's all just a bit of fun :)


End file.
